


You Can't Order a Latte On The Rocks

by accidental-mormon (crazyhomoinspace)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, DANCER!YUURI, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-09-17 12:27:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9323552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazyhomoinspace/pseuds/accidental-mormon
Summary: Yuuri Katsuki is a twenty year-old dance major, working part-time at a coffee shop. Victor Nikiforov is a world-famous figure skater, who happens to enjoy coffee. Yuri Plisetsky happens to think they're both gross, and is just there for the caffeine and to watch as the two of them quickly become one another's inspiration. [coffee shop!au]





	1. Chapter 1

Twenty year-old Yuuri Katsuki had more on his plate than most forty year-olds. He was a new college Junior, studying Dance, of all things. He attended New York University, and being in the big city was stress enough in itself. College was expensive, and the scholarships only took him so far, so while everyone else was enjoying Frosh Week, Yuuri had been roaming the streets of New York, looking for a Help Wanted sign in a window..

He couldn’t have asked for a better job than Jumpstart.

Jumpstart was a new, independently-owned coffee shop a short walk from campus. It was modern and geared toward students, with plenty of seating, and power outlets that sported USB ports. The hours were flexible, everyone he worked with was cool, and he was allowed all of the free caffeine that his little heart could handle. It had its challenges, but what job didn’t?   
  
To be fair, it would have probably been a little easier if English had been his first language.    
  
Yuuri had moved to the United States from Japan when he was eighteen, heart holding a dream of attending Juilliard. Well, to cut a very long story short, that hadn’t happened. After a frustrating audition and brutal rejection process, Yuuri had been ready to just give up and study something a little more practical in Japan. But he wasn’t one to give up that easily. Just when he was about to submit an application to Kyushu University, his mother had dropped a letter on his desk.    
  
The gears had started turning. He’d been accepted to NYU. Maybe, if he worked his ass off and excelled in his studies there, he could reapply to the school of his dreams? 

Dance had been his life from the time he was a toddler. It had started out of childish jealousy. His best friend got to go to dance classes, wear a cool leotard, and jump around. Why couldn’t he? So his parents enrolled him in a generic dance class for toddlers, and the obsession took hold. He tried everything at least once-- ballet, tap, jazz, hip-hop.. Anything that he could find a class in, he tried. Ballet and hip-hop had stuck, and had become what he had preoccupied himself with in New York. 

* * *

 

“Bye, Celestino!” Yuuri waved as the Shop Manager went out the door. Once six o’clock hit, that was when the real party began.   
  
Having school during the day, Yuuri always worked the night shift. The night shift at a coffee shop was a little more relaxed-- most people were there to study or get a pick-me-up after work, not scrambling for their morning lifeblood like they were before the sun rose. That also meant that, instead of the somewhat stuffy management of Celestino, he got to enjoy the company of the Shift Manager, Phichit Chulanont.    
  
Phichit was probably his best friend in the United States so far. He was supportive and understanding of Yuuri’s struggles-- he was also one of his classmates, and had even moved to the States from Thailand when he was young. So everything that Yuuri was feeling, Phichit could at least understand from his own experiences. 

Besides, that meant that they got to enjoy breakout dance parties at eight o’clock when the only people in the shop were studying so hard that nuclear winter couldn’t draw their attention away from their textbooks. When Yuuri had thought that he couldn’t ask for a better job, he was absolutely right.    
  
Phichit unplugged the radio from the shop’s sound system and replaced it with his phone. Yuuri smiled to himself as he finished making a cinnamon latte for a regular customer of theirs. The exit of Celestino was always like taking off an uncomfortable pair of shoes at the end of the day. Sure, they still focused on their customers, and always had the place scrubbed clean by closing time, but they were damn sure to have fun while doing it. 

“How was class today?” Phichit asked as Yuuri bid goodbye to their customer. 

“Fine,” Yuuri shrugged. “My ballet class was canceled, which meant that I had time to actually sit down and do my homework for Music Theory.”    
  
Phichit sighed, making a shot of espresso and sliding it over to Yuuri. “Can you do mine? I’ll pay you!”   
  
“Technically, you’re paying me right now,” Yuuri pointed out, downing the shot in one go. 

“Ah, that’s not the same! Oh, how’d it taste?”   
  
“Like espresso.”   
  
Phichit beamed. “Awesome! No more burnt taste!” He backed up to the espresso machine, snapping a selfie with it, captioning the photo with ‘Tamed the beast!!’

Yuuri shook his head, adjusting his apron while he headed to the back room. “I’m going to put a batch of cookies in!”

* * *

 

Victor Nikiforov was late.

He was never late.

It wasn’t his fault this time-- there had been a fight on the train, and they couldn’t move until everything was resolved. It was a taste of home.

Victor was from Russia. In fact, he was one of Russia’s most famous figure skaters, if not  _ the _ most famous figure skater, ever. He and his teammate, fifteen year-old Yuri Plisetsky, had moved to the United States to train under Yakov Feltsman, the best coach that money could buy.It was an adjustment, moving from St. Petersburg to New York City, but some things never changed.

Silvery hair falling into his eyes, he waved as he caught sight of the blonde teenager squatting outside of the skating rink, bundled in a jacket and phone perpetually glued to his hands.   
  
“I’m sorry, Yuri!” he called, crossing the street with a quick glance before running over to the boy.    
  
“This is why night practice is the worst idea you’ve come up with yet.” The sass wasn’t surprising coming from the boy-- he looked like he bathed in it. Harsh green eyes stared up into his soul.    
  
Victor murmured something resembling an apology as, duffle bag sliding off of his shoulder, he reached for the door to the rink.   
  
“Don’t bother,” Yuri sighed, standing and stretching. “They’re just going to bring the zamboni out in twenty minutes, and I don’t want to be chased by heavy machinery. Again,” he grumbled. “Besides, I think Yakov went to the bar.”   
  
With skaters like them, he deserved it.  
  
“...How about we get some coffee, then?”   
  
Yuri grunted. “If they have wifi.”   
  
“This is America, Yura. Truck stop bathrooms have their own wifi.” 

* * *

 

They wandered until the comforting scent of espresso lured them through a set of doors. Victor had to admit, he was impressed by the modern decor and upbeat music. The seating looked comfortable, and-- what was that smell?

“Hello!” Phichit greeted the pair. They weren’t the only ones in the shop, but it was close. There was one girl cozied up in a booth, paying no attention to the outside world. “Welcome to Jumpstart!”   
  
Victor wandered up to the counter, Yuri on his heels. He pondered over the menu, nibbling on his bottom lip. “Ahh, what’s good?” 

“Depends on what you like! We make an excellent macchiato! And oh, the Cinnamon Cream Latte is my specialty!”   
  
Victor smiled. “Can you surprise me?”   
  
“Ahh, that’s too much pressure for me! Yuuri!” he called. “I’ll have Yuuri whip you up something!”

Yuri looked up from his phone. “What am I doing?”   
  
Yuuri emerged from the back room, wiping off freshly-washed hands. “Yes, Phichit? Oh! Hello!” He greeted the customers with a smile.    
  
“Yuuri, this gentleman would like a surprise.”

Yuuri’s eyes lit up. That was his favourite part of the job, coming up with something unexpected and creative, yet delicious. 

Victor’s breath halted. Forget the coffee, couldn’t he just take the barista? That boy looked sweet enough to eat, sweeter than any drink he could create..

“Sir? Would you like it for here, or to go?”   
  
“Oh,” Victor smiled. “For here.”   
  
Yuri’s eyes could shoot lasers if he tried hard enough in that moment. Lasers. Right into Victor’s dumb skull. 

“Can I have a name for the order?”   
  
“Victor.”

Yuuri nodded and smiled, diving behind the espresso machine to hide the little blush on his cheeks. He got to work, and Phichit turned his attention to Yuri.    
  
“Something sweet for you?”   
  
Taking his laser-eyes off of Phichit, he looked up at the man behind the counter. “Cafe latte. Hot as you can make it. Double shot, made with heavy cream instead of milk.

Oh. So no hint of sugar anywhere. Okay. 

“You two can have a seat. They’ll be right out.”

Phichit rang them up, and the pair settled down at a nearby booth. Without a second of hesitation. Yuri whipped a cord out of his bag and shoved it into the USB port by the window. He plugged his phone in with a satisfied sigh.   
  
Victor’s eyes never left the barista making his drink.

It wasn’t long until Yuuri emerged with a ceramic cup on a plate. “Be careful please, it’s hot,” he warned,. “It’s a Mexican mocha, with chili pepper and a little bit of cinnamon,” he smiled. “It’s okay if you don’t like it! I can make you something else, no charge!”   
  
Victor marveled at the drink in front of him. Yuuri had fashioned the foam of the steamed milk into an intricate little heart.

“Wow!” he gushed, hands in the air by his face. “It’s too beautiful to drink!” He took a quick picture before, while Yuuri was still standing there, taking a little sip.   
  
“Vkusno!” he cried, eyes wide as he tried to channel all of his adoration into his gaze in Yuuri’s direction.   
  
Yuuri’s face fell, and he reached out for the cup. “Oh, I’m sorry! I should have told you it was spicy. I can make something el--”   
  
“Oh! No, it’s delicious,” Victor assured. “I like a little bit of spice.” He winked and Yuuri had to control the urge to turn red.   
  
“Good! I’m glad you like it! I’ll be at the counter if you need anything!” he offered, shuffling quickly away from the booth.   
  
Phichit delivered the drink for Yuri, who would never admit that he was extremely pleased that, like Victor, he got a design on his latte. Though he didn’t get a heart-- ew-- he got…

“..Is that a cat?”   
  
Phichit nodded. “Yup! I saw the cat on your shirt, and, well..”   
  
Yuri snapped approximately thirteen pictures before he could even bring himself to take a sip of the drink. 

When it was time for the skaters to go, Victor made his way back up to the counter. Yuuri made his way to the register.   
  
“I just wanted to say thank you again for the delicious drink,” Victor smiled. “I hope you make something even more delicious the next time I come in.”    
  
That time, there was no controlling the blush. “Oh, I’m glad you enjoyed it! I look forward to the next time you visit us.”   
  
“I do, too.” Victor placed his hand on the counter and leaned forward. “But before I go, you must tell me what is that delicious smell?”   
  
Smell? Oh!    
  
“Cookies,” Yuuri answered. As if on cue, the oven beeped. “Ah, would you like one? I have chocolate chip and snickerdoodles. They’re warm,” he offered.   
  
“Snickerdoodle?” Victor had to chuckle. “Yes, please. I’ll have one of each.” He pulled his wallet out.   
  
“It’s okay!” He leaned forward. “We always have to throw out a couple because they don’t turn out a pretty shape.” Phichit wouldn’t care, but still. He wanted to be at least somewhat professional. Victor caught on and stepped back. What a treat this visit had turned out to be. He couldn’t get over just how sweet that little barista was.

Yuuri brought out four cookies in a little bag-- two snickerdoodles, two chocolate chip, just in case the blonde boy with Victor wanted some, too. 

Victor took off his leather gloves, placing them on the counter before taking the chocolate chip cookie and taking a bite. It was fresh and warm, just cool enough to eat. “Mm,” he purred, licking the chocolate off of his fingers, keeping eye contact with the cute barista.   
  
Yuuri was going to die. Those blue eyes were capable of murder, and that little pink tongue…

“I think I’ll save the rest. Mustn’t have too many sweets before dinner.” He turned, adjusting the bag on his shoulder. “Goodbye, Yuuri.”    
  
Yuuri waved, voice not working.   
  
“Goodbye?” Yuri scoffed. “I’ve gotta suffer through the next hour with you. Come on, we have to get to the rink.” Yuri held the door, waiting for Victor. “Yakov’s waiting for your useless gay ass,” he muttered, finally stepping outside of the building.

“Wow!” Phichit grinned, right in Yuuri’s face. “He was cute, right? And he was flirting with you!” 

“Was not!” Yuuri defended, shoving one of the reject cookies into his mouth. “He was just nice! Besides, he was with his kid!”   
  
Phichit scoffed. “Sweet summer child Yuuri,” he chided. “He couldn’t have been more than thirty, and that kid was in his teens!”   
  
“It happens!”

With an eye roll, Phichit threw his arm around Yuuri’s shoulders. “There was no ring on that finger, and so what if you’re not the only one calling him ‘daddy?’”   
  
“.....I’m leaving.”   
  
Phichit cackled, checking the levels of the milk containers. Yuuri sighed, leaning on the counter. He had been extremely handsome.. And the way he licked his fingers.. Eyes closed, Yuuri found himself drifting away, remembering how beautiful that smile had been, how those blue eyes sparkled, how he could imagine that tongue on something else long..   
  
Fingers.    
  
Gloves.   
  
Panic arose in Yuuri’s chest as he opened his eyes and was greeted by the sight of two very expensive-looking leather gloves. Who knew if he would actually come back? Didn’t that blonde boy say something about a rink? There was a new skating rink not too far, did they go there?   
  
“Phichit, I’m going on break!” he yelled, jumping the counter and running out the door, leather gloves in his grasp.   
  
“...Okay,” Phichit shrugged, way too late to make a difference. “...Hey, study girl, do you like Thai music?”   
  
The lone customer didn’t even look up. “I don’t give a fuck.”   
  
“Yay!”

* * *

 

Yuuri panted as he maneuvered at a run through the city streets. The ice rink wasn’t very far. One of the boys in his ballet class, Leo, was a figure skater. He remembered picking him up there before a study session one day..   
  
He burst through the doors, looking around the corridor before finding the double doors leading to the rink. He opened them gingerly, and cursed internally when the unlatching of the door could be heard even over the music playing in the enormous room.    
  
Yup. There was Victor.    
  
If Victor had been beautiful off of ice, he was gorgeous on ice. He’d shed the black trench coat he wore in favor of a skin-hugging navy blue quarter-length sleeved athletic shirt. His trousers accentuated his rear end, and.. Wow, he’d never seen gold skates before.. Not that he’d seen that many. It was hard to believe that Yuuri was looking at the same man he’d just met at the coffee shop. He launched his body into the air, and much to Yuuri’s amazement, landed easily on one foot.   
  
“What do you want?”    
  
The sneering question had come from the blonde boy. He skated to the edge of the rink. “This is a private session. Get out!”   
  
“Oh,” Yuuri looked down. “I just.. These were left at the shop.” He held the gloves up and Yuri snatched them.    
  
“Thanks. Out,” he growled, pointing at the door.    
  
Yuuri turned and left immediately. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but it hadn’t been that.    
  
Victor caught a flash of the dark purple apron Yuuri was still wearing as he ran out the door. Confusion on his face, he turned his attention to Yuri, who turned in front of him with a spray of ice.   
  
“See? I told you that you shouldn’t have been nice to him. Now you have a stray puppy.” He sentence was spoken in their native Russian, and Victor looked down at the black leather gloves shoved into his arms.   
  
Oh…

“You’re a son of a bitch, you know that?”

“At least my quad Salchow is flawless.”

* * *

 

Yuuri trudged back to the shop, fighting tears that he couldn’t source. What had he been expecting? All he was doing was delivering gloves, and he’d accomplished that goal. It was best to forget about it. It wasn’t like he’d ever see him again.   
  
“Yuuri!” Phichit chirped as his co-worker returned. “I googled it! So, that was Victor Nikiforov! The boy with him wasn’t his son, but it was Yuri Plisetsky! They’re famous figure skaters! I wish I’d gotten a picture! It would have been so good for busine-- hey, where are you going?”   
  
“Just cleaning the back,” Yuuri sighed. 

What a rollercoaster of an hour.

But despite all of that, he couldn’t help but think about the way Victor moved and jumped on the ice. It was so beautiful...would he ever be that beautiful of a dancer?

In that moment, Yuuri felt himself inspired by a man he’d known for not even an hour and had seen skate for maybe all of one minute. His goal was to be as beautiful on the floor as Victor was on ice.

...After he cleaned the back room...


	2. Chapter 2

A week had passed since Yuuri Katsuki had met Victor Nikiforov. Most nights of that week had been spent watching an insane number of YouTube videos of Victor’s performances. He was so beautiful. He’d spent his life surrounded by dancers, but not one of them managed to display the grace and sex appeal of the man on the screen. 

Could he really emulate him? 

Yuuri rushed to work that day, still dressed in his dance clothes. Phichit whistled playfully and Yuuri swatted at him. The black shirt he wore was loose and flowing, cut asymmetrically to hang over his left hip. His pants-- if they could be called that-- were secured with a stirrup strap hidden by his sneakers. The black fabric clung to him like a second skin. He hid what he could with his purple apron, and concealed his messy hair with his hat.   
  
“You were right,” Yuuri smiled at Phichit. “His performances are beautiful. His 2013 Short Program has given me some ideas for my recital,” he admitted.   
  
“I told you! It’s like sex on ice.”   
  
Yuuri choked. 

Friday nights were early nights for Yuuri. Instead of staying until close to help Phichit get everything cleaned up, he was out an hour early. He hadn’t told anyone what he did, but Phichit had plenty of.. Very creative ideas.   
  
“Ahh, I wish you’d just tell me where you go every Friday,” Phichit whined. “Is it for Japanese people only, or something?”   
  
“I’m not telling you.”    
  
“Come on!”   
  
The two were so distracted that neither of them looked up when the door chimed. It wasn’t until they heard a bark that they realized that they weren’t alone.

Wait. A bark?   
  
Yuuri’s heart stopped.

There he was.

Victor Nikiforov stood in front of them, looking as gorgeous as he had that day, and even better than he had looked in those hundreds of YouTube videos. Yuri Plisetsky was with him again, along with a rather large, curly-furred dog.    
  
“Ah, I hope it’s alright that I bring my dog?” Victor asked. “He came with me to practice, and we’re all thirsty..”   
  
Fighting the blush, Yuuri opened his mouth to inform Victor that, unfortunately, the dog wouldn’t be allowed inside, but Phichit beat him to the punch.    
  
“Yes!” he cried. “Ahh, he’s so cute! Here, I have just the thing!” He sprayed a plentiful amount of whipped cream on the sides of a paper cup and leapt over the counter. He sat down and the dog bounced over, lying down over Phichit’s legs.   
  
“This is the best day of my life,” he cried as the dog stuck his entire face into the cup.   
  
Yuuri turned to the customers. “Sorry.. He’s.. easily excitable,” he explained, rubbing the back of his head. “What can I make for you?”   
  
Victor waved it off. “It’s okay. Makkachin is friendly.” He leaned forward. “Could you make something without caffeine?” he asked. “I’m in the mood for something tasty, but won’t keep me up all night.” Wink.   
  
Yuuri was going to die. 

“And what can I make for you?” Yuuri asked Victor’s foul-tempered companion.   
  
“Triple shot sugar-free peppermint mocha. Medium.”   
  
“Trip--”   
  
“Triple,” Yuri insisted. “Caffeine doesn’t affect me.”

The pair paid before wandering over to a booth. Well, in that case.. Yuuri presented Victor with a chai latte, built up with whipped cream and dusted with cinnamon and nutmeg, as well as chocolate shavings.    
  
“Wow!” Victor cried. “Your creations are always so beautiful, Yuuri!”    
  
Yuri was going to have to train himself to not look up every goddamn time.

For Yuri, Yuuri took the time to draw an intricate snowflake on the surface of the drink. It was okay. Not as good as the cat, but still kinda cool.    
  
“Sit with us,” Victor invited Yuuri, gesturing to the seat in front of him. “You look so tired.”   
  
“Oh, I’m okay,” Yuuri smiled.    
  
Phichit rolled his eyes. “It’s dead in here, and you had hip-hop and ballet today. You can sit for a while.”    
  
Phichit was trying to be a wingman, and Yuuri couldn’t tell if he appreciated it or not.    
  
“You dance?” Victor asked, eyes lighting up. “Now you have to sit. We have so much in common!” He looked at the blonde. “Yuri, there’s an outlet if you sit at the bar. This booth doesn’t have one.”   
  
Yuri grabbed his drink. “I can tell when I’m not wanted,” he scoffed, nose wrinkled and upturned as he went to the bar. Makkachin trotted over to his owner, lying down obediently at Victor’s feet.    
  
Yuuri slid into the booth awkwardly. This felt weird. He was at work.. And Victor was so handsome. It felt like some kind of interview.. Or a date…    
  
“Y-yeah,” Yuuri admitted. “Mostly ballet, but hip-hop is more.. Fun, I guess is the word I’m looking for.”

“He’s really good at hip-hop,” Phichit offered, returning to his place behind the counter.   
  
Victor brightened. “Could you show me?”   
  
The blush on Yuuri’s cheeks could rival the average traffic light. He couldn’t dance like that in front of Victor. Hell, he could barely dance like that in front of Phichit without turning red or making him turn around during a particularly sexy move. He was good, but there was a reason he performed ballet more than anything else..

“H-here?”   
  
“Of course. No need to be shy, we’re the only ones here.”    
  
Yuuri sighed. He slid out of the booth and untied his apron. He laid it, along with his hat, on a nearby table. He shoved it back a little bit, needing just a bit more room. He stretched his arms and nodded to Phichit, who had his phone out, ready to provide some music. 

‘Into You’ by Ariana Grande filled the coffee shop, and all eyes were on shy little Yuuri Katsuki as he began to move. He turned in one of his moves, shooting Phichit a glare, who only returned the look with a wide grin and double thumbs up. ‘I’m going to kill him later,’ Yuuri decided as he slid his hand up his shirt, revealing just an inch or two of firm, toned stomach. 

For the entire length of the song, Victor’s eyes never left Yuuri’s body. That was a boy who’d trained long and hard at his discipline, and was good at it. Being a dancer, himself, he recognized the skill, the passion behind every sway of his hips and movement of his arms. He would have been a fierce figure skater, Victor decided, and the thought filled his stomach with excitement. He wondered.. Could Yuuri skate? He’d look so beautiful on the ice. He was the perfect height, his legs and core were strong, his pirouette was flawless, and he was fairly sure that he could balance his coffee cup on Yuuri’s ass without a drop of chai spilling.

Yuuri panted as the song ended, and Victor stood with applause. Yuri rolled his eyes, clapping twice, faintly, before returning to his coffee. Yuuri covered his reddened cheeks with his hands for a moment before scrambling to throw on his apron and hat.   
  
”You are going to be a famous dancer one day, Yuuri.” Victor tapped his finger on his lips. “...Would you like to come skate with me?”   
  
Bewildered, Yuuri ran a hand through his hair. “Oh, I.. don’t know how to skate.”   
  
“I’ll teach you.”    
  
Yuri rolled his eyes. Victor Nikiforov was offering to teach a nobody how to skate, just to, presumably, get laid. It was like Michael Phelps teaching an Intro to Swimming for Tiny Baby Toddlers class. Ridiculous. But that was Victor. He put his everything into what he wanted, and for some reason, he wanted the barista.   
  
Oh well. Nothing he could do. Victor was obsessed. ‘This coffee isn’t as good as what Yuuri made.’ ‘I’d like to go have him surprise me again..’ Yuri never heard the end of it. 

Yuuri shifted on his feet. “Okay..”   
  
Victor looked hopeful. “You will? How about tonight?”   
  
Tonight? Oh! Tonight! Yuuri looked at the clock-- he was late!   
  
“Oh! I can’t tonight! I’m so sorry! I have to go!” He tore off his apron and hat again, leaving them on the booth. He bowed a couple of times as he ran out the door before taking off down the street.   
  
Victor sighed dramatically. “Ah, my Cinderella,” he sighed. “Leaving me with only memories and a token to remember him by..” He held the discarded apron up to his face and nuzzled it longingly. Makkachin placed his head on his owner’s lap, whimpering for attention. Victor hugged his dog’s face. “What ever will I do, Makkachin?”   
  
Yuri stared at him. “....You know where he works.”   
  
“What if I never see him again?”

Phichit hummed. “I mean, I can give you his phone number..”

* * *

 

That night, Yuuri hadn’t even bothered looking at his phone before bed. Friday nights were exhausting, and he hadn’t even possessed the energy needed to press a button. He slept until ten, waking alone in his dorm with the peaceful knowledge that he didn’t have to be anywhere until the sun was beginning to set.

Yuuri opened the lone unread text as he dug through his bookbag, wanting to find a Nutrigrain bar that he knew he had put in there some time that week.

**FROM: UNKNOWN NUMBER**

**Msg** : Would you like to get breakfast?

 

Yuuri’s brows furrowed. Unknown number? Whatever. Probably a misdial. He kept looking for his cereal bar, determined now to find it in the vortex that was his backpack.   


His phone rang so seldomly that, when the ringtone started playing, Yuuri jumped. He picked up the device, bewildered. Nobody called him. Phichit used Facebook messenger, and his parents always expected him to call them.   
  
Same unknown number.   
  
“H-hello?”   
  
“Yuuri!”   
  
...Victor? How did he get his number?   
  
“You ran out so early last night, I didn’t get the chance to give you my number! Your manager is so nice, giving me yours..”

“Phichit gave you my number?!”

“Yes, ah, I hope you aren’t mad, but I didn’t want to leave anything to chance. I never got the opportunity to thank you for bringing my gloves back. Will you meet me for breakfast?”   
  
Yuuri pulled the Nutrigrain bar out of his bag and promptly threw it against the wall with a sad ‘fwap.’

“Y-yes, ah, where?”   
  
“Twenty Four, the cafe by the skating rink?”   
  
Yuuri nodded. “Okay! I can be there in twenty.”   
  
“See you in twenty.”

The line hung up and Yuuri felt like his heart was going to rip itself out of his chest. Okay, chill, Katsuki. It wasn’t like Victor Nikiforov was asking you on a date. It was just breakfast. With a hot guy. A hot, famous professional athlete..

Oh god, what do people wear to breakfast?

* * *

 

He settled on a black t-shirt with a blue plaid button down and jeans. That was safe, right? Nobody would think that he was out on a date. He trudged around in a pair of boots that he’d tucked his jeans into, and almost slid to a stop when he noticed where they were.

Twenty Four wasn’t just a cafe. It was one of the most expensive cafes in the district. Sure, Victor could have breakfast-- Yuuri would end up spending a week’s worth of tip money on water and complimentary bread.

“Hello,” he greeted the hostess with a little bow. “Ah, I’m here with Nikif--”   
  
“You must be Yuuri,” she deadpanned. “This way, please.”    
  
She led Yuuri to a table in the back, where Victor was contemplating a menu. When Yuuri pulled his seat out, Victor lit up like a child on his birthday. 

“Yuuri! I’m so happy to see you!” he cried. “Sit, sit!” he invited enthusiastically, and only took his seat as Yuuri did so.    
  
They debated their menu choices for the moment. Yuuri ordered a waffle, which was just about the only thing on the menu that he could afford without making his meal last for two full weeks. Victor, on the other hand, ordered enough food for an army.

One thing was weighing heavily on Yuuri’s mind, and if he was going to enjoy the morning, he had to find out what Victor’s motives were. Life hadn’t always been kind to Yuuri. He’d never really been on a date. He’d been asked out, but only as a joke. He wondered if this was Victor’s way of letting him down easy?    
  
“Umm, Victor?” Yuuri started shyly. “If I can ask.. Why?” he asked, looking down at the napkin in his lap. “Why ask Phichit for my number, and why ask me to breakfast?” He fiddled with the hem of his shirt. “I’m nothing special..”   
  
Victor put down the cup of coffee he was drinking from. 

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Elbow on the table, Victor leaned on his hand. “You are everything special.” He gave a perfect smile in response to Yuuri’s blush. “When I met you, I saw a young man who could surprise me. And you’ve done that with everything… the drinks you make for me, showing me your dance.. You never fail to make me smile. So I wanted to get to know you. You’re very interesting.” 

Interesting. 

Victor Nikiforov thought he was interesting. 

Yuuri shifted in his seat. “So.. what you’re saying is..”   
  
“This is a date,” Victor filled in.

Yuuri looked up at him for a second before promptly dropping his gaze. “I’ve.. never been on one before.”   
  
The idea of being this cute little dancer’s first date excited Victor. “Really?” he gasped, both hands on the table. “Wow! This is such an honor!” 

They were interrupted by the delivery of food, and Yuuri enthusiastically buried his embarrassment into his waffle. He had a long-standing history of stress-eating, and that waffle was getting the brunt of it.   
  
“Where are you from?” Victor asked, keeping his gaze on his date from across the table as they ate. “I’ve admired your accent, but never could place it.”

Yuuri wiped some whipped cream off of his nose. “Oh, I’m from a small town in Kyushu, Japan.”

Victor marveled. He’d met people from Japan, of course, but Yuuri was different. He was so warm and friendly, with that cute little air of humbleness. It was really a pity that he’d never taken up skating. With his attitude and his aptitude for dance… god, the things that boy would do with his hips.. 

“...So you really have never skated?” Victor asked, tapping his lip. It was an abrupt change of subject, but he tended to speak what was on his mind. “Even as a kid?”

Yuuri shook his head. “Never.”

Victor smiled into the bite of quiche he was taking. He washed it down with a sip of coffee and reached out, brushing Yuuri’s knuckles with his own. “Well.. I think we need to fix that.” He brushed a strand of hair out of his own eyes. “I’ve been told I’m very good.”

‘Of course you are, you’re Victor Nikiforov!’ Yuuri’s head wanted to scream, but his mouth couldn’t voice it. “O-oh.”

As soon as their meal was paid for, Victor stood and offered Yuuri his hand. “If you are up for it, I’d really love to bring you to the rink with me,” he admitted. “It would be so much fun, and I’ve seen so much of your talent. Can I show you mine?”

Yuuri nodded. He supposed he could go with him.. But there was no way that he was putting on a pair of skates and falling on his ass in front of a World Champion. It would be mortifying!

“...I’d like to see it,” Yuuri admitted, and that was all Victor needed. He clapped his hands and dragged Yuuri toward the door, leaving a substantial tip for the waitress. 

What had Yuuri just gotten himself into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't abandon works, I just get.. otherwise inspired. 8D
> 
> Please leave me a comment and/or kudos! They make me happy!
> 
> If you *really* liked this, please consider donating to my ko-fi @spacehomo! The link is also on my tumblr @accidental-mormon!

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope everyone enjoys this story! I absolutely adore cliches. I couldn't help myself! Please leave comments and kudos, and come visit me on tumblr @ accidental-mormon!


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